


Wolf Like Me

by nauticalparamour



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22699993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nauticalparamour/pseuds/nauticalparamour
Summary: Hermione never expected to be inflicted with lycanthropy, but after six months and no useful help from Remus, she goes to the one person he warned her against for help: Fenrir Greyback.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Fenrir Greyback
Comments: 31
Kudos: 321





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione woke up with a gasp, pupils rapidly shrinking to accommodate the afternoon light that streamed in through the dingy windows of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Wincing, she placed a hand gingerly against her ribs to assess the tenderness.

Forcing her body to relax, she mentally ran through every new ache and pain the same way she did every month after the full moon. She knew later, when she forced herself to look in the mirror, she would find herself covered with a variety of bruises and cuts that would need a bit of healing, but she'd learned quickly enough that the broken bones were the only injuries bad enough to complain about.

Wiggling her toes, she winced feeling the beginnings of a stress fracture in the top of her foot. Her legs were fine enough, except for the stiffness of her muscles having been put through the agony of two transformations in less than twelve hours. A trio of scratches marred the skin on her quadricep, but she knew that with a bit of salve, they wouldn't scar. _They weren't deep enough_ , she thought bitterly. Her fingers and arms were okay, and she pressed herself up into a sitting position, only to feel partially healed skin splitting open on her back. Hissing, she knew that that would scar.

Bringing herself to standing, she hobbled her way into the bathroom where she would step into the shower, hoping to wash away any dried blood. Feeling the hot water — always scalding, her mind wouldn't accept anything less — run into the shoulder gash, she grit her teeth at the pain, hating the way that she enjoyed it...hated the way that it seemed to snap her back into her _humanity_.

When she could stand the heat no longer, she stumbled out of the tub, grasping onto the towel bar as she swayed with dizziness from the steam or the weakness that always seemed to follow one of her transformations. Wrapping the towel around her frail body, which had never seemed to regain the weight after her year on the run, she stared at her face in the mirror.

The face that looked back was unfamiliar and hollow. Her hair, which used to seem as if it had a life of its own, now hung limp and dull. Brown eyes were ringed by dark circles that never seemed to fully go away, but would fade the further they got away from the Full Moon. Her cheeks looked hollow and sunken. She wasn't sure if she should count herself lucky that she didn't have scars on her face, unlike Remus. No, all of the scars that she inflicted on herself were hidden under her clothes, including the horrific looking bite that had turned her all those months ago...

Quickly reaching up a hand to wipe away an errant tear, Hermione felt shame and self loathing well up inside of her. She'd always preached that werewolves were just like any other witch or wizard, and they should be treated with dignity and respect. She'd thought that the condition could be managed with compassion and a bit of wolfsbane potion. Instead, reality had ripped away any of the naive notions she might have had about lycanthropy.

Her wolf and her witch were constantly in battle with one another, and even though the wolfsbane potion allowed her to keep her mind during the full moon, it didn't quell the rage inside the wolf. She wasn't sure why, but it seemed as if it wanted to _destroy_ everything, starting with her own body.

_You will get used to it_ , Remus had said, a sad, guilty look in his eyes, perhaps knowing the years of suffering that she was going to have to go through. He knew first hand the way that wizarding society would shun her, turning her away from job opportunities even though she was a war hero. The only reason she wasn't homeless was because of Harry's generosity in letting her and Remus live in Grimmauld Place after he and Ginny moved to Godric's Hollow. Her meager stipend from the Ministry of Magic for her contributions in the war barely allowed her to scrape by. Gone were all of her dreams.

_We'll all support you. Your friends will be there for you_. Unfortunately, Remus had overestimated her friends, perhaps expecting Harry and Ron to be like the Marauders. It had barely taken a month — after her first transformation — for Harry and Ron to grow distant and awkward around her. It had taken Ron two months to tell her that he didn't really see them working out together, and had moved on to Susan Bones instead.

Sometimes she wondered why the Marauders had been more accepting of Remus. Was it because he'd been a werewolf his whole life, the whole time they'd known him? Had Harry and Ron, the Weasleys, and the Order, had such high expectations for her for so long, only to have her reduced to such a _pathetic_ state in an instant? Whatever the reasoning was, she wasn't blind to the fact that her presence put them off, and she'd slowly withdrawn from group functions. Only Remus was her constant companion.

Once she was dry, she could see that the nasty gash on her shoulder was still bleeding, but based on the location of her body, she knew she wouldn't be able to heal it herself. She hated having to rely on Remus for assistance, but really, she knew she should just be glad that she had anyone to help her. She didn't want him to see it, though, as it was further proof of her internal battle, having inflicted it upon herself sometime between moonrise and the complete transformation, when her claws had come out but her bones hadn't snapped back into place yet.

Thinking of the way she contorted and howled was enough to send her shivering now that she was in the light of day.

Her eyes fluttered as she was overcome with a wave of dizziness and nausea, knowing that she wouldn't have the strength to keep standing on her own for much longer. Wrapping the towel loosely around her body, she shuffled to the door before calling for the only other occupant of Grimmauld Place. "Remus," she croaked, her voice always a bit rough after the transformation.

Immediately, her sensitive ears cold pick up the lumbering steps of her former professor making their way up the stairs to her room. It wasn't long before he was opening the door and waltzing into her room without permission. There had been a time when Hermione would have been mortified at being so underdressed in front of him, but modesty was an impossibility with her condition. He'd already seen her in worse states.

She didn't speak, merely spun around in place to show him her back, letting the towel — now stained with the bright red of her blood — drop to her waist. Immediately, she could hear the intake of his breath, shocked at the level of damage that she'd been able to do to herself, his own experience unable to prepare him for what he would see. She could feel his fingers, tender and soft against the flesh of her back, gently prodding her to see how deep the gash went.

"Lie down on the bed," he instructed. "I'll just go get some supplies."

Hermione, feeling dead on her feet, was only too happy to comply with the order. With her front down on the bed, she turned her head to stare at the door waiting for Remus to come back to her. It didn't take long before he was padding back into the room, barefoot.

Sitting in space on the bed next to her, he quickly worked to close the gash and heal it as best as magic could. She'd quickly learned that werewolf bites and cuts were cursed and didn't heal like normal wounds. Letting her eyes slip closed once again, she let herself enjoy the feeling of someone else taking care of her, even if it was only for a moment. Remus was always so gentle, but firm, with her. If she closed her eyes, she could forget, if only for a little bit, that she was a werewolf, while his fingers moved slowly over her bare skin.

She must have dozed off a bit, because the next time he spoke, she was startled awake. "I'm sorry, Hermione. This is going to leave a rather large scar," Remus told her, with pity and guilt dripping from his voice.

A great, shuddering sigh left her body while she tried to keep a stranglehold on her emotions, but she was unable to, a lone tear slipping from her eye, over the bridge of her nose and onto her face.

Remus knew about it — of course — even though she didn't want him to. How could he not smell the acrid, saline smell with that sensitive nose of his. "I promise, Hermione, it will get easier," he said, his voice a low rumble. "In a year, this will all be nothing more than a memory."

_A painful memory_ , said a mean little voice in the back of her mind. In the beginning, she'd wanted to believe Remus _so badly_ , but after half a year of living as a werewolf, she knew that his promises were hollow. It might get easier, but things would never be the same, and she would have to give up on that hopeful longing that things might go back to the way that they were. That Ron might return and say he did love her after all — condition or no. That Harry would be able to hug her once again without holding back.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the fleeting hours of the day in bed, sleeping away the aches and the pain, but Remus wouldn't allow it. "Come on, get dressed," he said, digging through her dresser to find her a shirt and pants and appropriate undergarments. "We'll get some food in you and then you can sit by the fire for a while," he said, trying to sound cheerful.

He already knew that she would be too weak to dress on her own, so he was already holding out her pants for her once she'd wiggled her way into her knickers. She lifted her hands over her head, waiting for him to pull to jumper over her head, hating the way that it made her feel like _such_ a child, but also knowing it wouldn't get done otherwise.

In an act of stubbornness, she pushed herself up from the bed, only to sway on her feet. Remus, as ever, was there to catch her. Hermione wished that she didn't resent him, but she had no other choice when she was forced to rely on him so heavily. He helped her out of her room and down the two flights of stairs to the kitchen.

The meal that he'd been working on himself was under stasis on the stove — a hearty beef stew that was just about one of the only things that he could make successfully. He sat her down in one of the chairs, before producing her half a bar of chocolate. After months of living together, he no longer gave her the little song and dance about how it would make her feel better. Once she'd finished that, a bowl of steaming stew was placed in front of her.

Hermione took the first bite and was barely able to swallow because of the lump in her throat, knowing that she was on the verge of full on sobbing. How pathetic were they, her and Remus? Living like hermits in the townhouse that didn't hold one happy memory, even when it was inhabited the first time around. Lying to themselves and pretending like there was some other kind of life for them where they could have families and live like a _normal_ witch or wizard. No, instead they were left to cling to one another, because all of their loved ones had left them — Hermione's by choice and Remus's by death. She knew that Remus felt just as hollow as she did after losing his mate and child during birth, blaming it on his lycanthropy. He was just better at hiding it after so many years with the condition.

She was sick and tired of feeling this helpless, and alone, and just hoping that next month it would be better when she knew, deep down that it wouldn't. She couldn't live like this any more.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days after the full moon, once Hermione had begun to feel herself again, the refusal to continue plodding away the way she had been since she'd been turned into a werewolf wouldn't leave. Instead, it festered in her mind, looping on repeat until it was all that she could think about. The inspiration of just what she was going to do came one evening while she was staring out at the moon above her. Once it got ahold of her, there was little else she could think of.

She wasn't entirely sure why the name Fenrir Greyback popped into her head. She hadn't thought about him since the war, when he'd unfortunately escaped after having fought on Voldemort's side. There had been reports of sightings of him all across Scotland, but he'd eluded the aurors all the same.

Remus had always been reticent about the man who'd changed him when he was just a boy. There was obviously no love lost between the two of them, as it seemed Remus blamed Fenrir for his curse. _Even though he insisted to her that it wasn't a curse_ , Hermione reminded herself bitterly. Early on in her change, Remus had insisted that she never go searching out Greyback, and filled her head with stories of his bloodlust from the time that he'd lived with Greyback's pack undercover for the Order.

Now, as she wallowed in her self pity, Hermione wondered if Greyback didn't know something about lycanthropy that she and Remus didn't.

It was no secret that Greyback relished his lifestyle as being a werewolf, and she'd even heard stories that he was able to change forms at will, almost like an animagus. The sound of _that_ was simply fascinating on a purely academic level, but it also suggested that he had some kind of control over his wolf form that neither Hermione or her former professor had managed to master. The thought of that alone was seductive to say the least. Hermione would give anything to have control of her life again. Maybe then she'd be able to rejoin society as a _normal_ witch.

That night, she dreamt of her wolf running through a moonlight forest playfully.

It filled her with an aching, a longing, when she woke up the next day. Hermione knew that she was a stubborn person by nature, and she wasn't going to let it go. She knew that she needed to find Greyback and convince him to share whatever secrets he knew about lycanthropy, Remus be damned!

It was early enough in the day that she didn't hear the telltale steps of her constant companion, so she dressed as quietly as possible, before grabbing her tiny beaded bag. Despite being nearly a year removed from the war, she still hadn't fully unpacked it, finding herself unable to let go of the fear that she might need to leave at a moment's notice. In any case, the bag still contained the essentials, including the tent.

Grabbing her wand, she apparated to the point at the Leaky Cauldron. She knew it was a bit rude to leave Remus without telling him where she was going or when she'd be back. At the same time, she knew he'd never let her go if he had even a hint that she was going looking for the man who'd destroyed his life.

When she arrived in the wizarding village, she changed over a handful of galleons into muggle pounds, so that she'd be able to stock up on some food. She had no idea how long it would take her to find Greyback, so she wanted to be prepared. It didn't take her long to get a few things that would help her get by while she was searching — mostly dried jerky — and return to the Leaky Cauldron.

Once there, she flooed to the Three Broomsticks, only to set out into the forest near Hogwarts. She wasn't entirely sure _what_ she was looking for, seeing as she had no idea what Fenrir did in the forest, but she did know that the last sightings of him were around this area.

It was a bit odd to walk into the forest, with no clear direction in mind. All around her were signs of life, from chirping birds to jumping squirrels and not a single one of them paid her any mind. None of them realized the dangerous predator inside of her, lurking just under the surface. Following her instincts — her sensitive nose and acute hearing — she followed a path of her own making deeper into the trees, until she was sure she was completely out of the sphere of human interference.

For hours she walked, looking for any hint of Fenrir Greyback, but by the time it grew too dark for her to continue on, she set up her tent, deciding to camp there for the night. The inside of it was unchanged from her time on the run with Harry and Ron, and Hermione felt her heart squeezed with a painful sort of nostalgia. Needing to get out of the unnaturally large interior, she set about starting a little fire to sit by, even though she didn't need the warmth, contenting herself on a dinner of beef jerky.

A book laid forgotten on her lap while she stared through the rising smoke towards the moon that was becoming smaller each day. Briefly, she wondered what Remus was doing in that moment, knowing that her absence from Grimmauld Place was likely to send him into a panic. Shaking her head and hating how much she'd grown to rely on the former Professor, Hermione reminded herself that this was a necessary move and she'd return to him once she'd gotten what she wanted.

After all of the walking, sleep came easily to her.

* * *

Hermione woke the following morning and stretched her toes, surprised to find no lingering soreness from her trek over unusual terrain. She could remember the pain that had sunk into her legs when she'd been on the run with the boys and how every step seemed to require extraordinary effort, until she'd gotten used to it. She supposed it was just another advantage of her new abilities.

After a light breakfast and packing up the tent, she hid the evidence of her fire, before beginning to walk again. She continued in the same direction as before, her eyes peeled for any telltale signs that might indicate that Fenrir Greyback had been there. Her morning was uneventful, and she stopped for lunch near a small stream.

But, that stream was the turning point in her journey. It wasn't obvious at first, but she quickly found evidence of _someone_ having chopped down some trees. She sniffed at the wood delicately, and found a scent, but she couldn't say for certain it was Greyback's. After all, she had never smelled him after being infected. It was musky and warm, with hints of spice and pine. Biting her lower lip, she decided to follow the scent as long as it would take her. It was a lead that she couldn't pass up.

She followed the winding path as it traveled upstream for miles, only to be disappointed when the scent's trail dead-ended at the stream. It seemed that whoever or _whatever_ she'd been following had gone through the stream and she'd lost the trail. Unable to pick it up on the other side, she sat on the ground in the shade, pressing her head into her hands.

_I will not cry_ , she insisted to herself, taking deep breaths as her first sense of purpose in months slipped out of her fingers. Flopping down on her back, she sucked in a deep breath, trying desperately one last time to catch the trail, but was unable. Once she was there, though, she found she didn't have the will to get back up to set up her little camp for the evening.

Knowing that her wolfish traits would keep her warm enough, she curled up into a little ball on her side, closing her eyes. She'd resume her search in the morning.

* * *

Hermione had taken to following the stream the next morning. Just as she was about to rest for her lunch, the snapping of a branch caught her attention. She stopped in her tracks, spinning around the open forest, trying to pick up any sign of movement. "Hello?" she called out, waiting for an answer, but finding none. Her eyes slipped closed, breathing in deeply with the hopes of catching the scent of whatever was out there with her.

In her next heartbeat, Hermione was slammed into by something, knocking her down to the fallen leaves on the ground. Her eyes flew open as she felt her flight or fight instincts kick in, and the wolf inside her was very pro-fight. Reaching up, she tried to knock whatever it was on top of her off her body, only to feel her wrists be captured by two hands. Her heart stopped.

Blinking, she came back to herself, the figure on top of her no longer a blur, but a _person_ instead. It did not take long for her to realize that it was Fenrir Greyback. "Greyback," she snarled, kicking her legs to get out from underneath his mass, but finding no reprieve. "Get off me."

The werewolf rewarded her with an eerie smile, each shiny, sharp tooth shown to her. He dipped his face to her shoulder, before breathing in deeply. "Little Hermione Granger a werewolf? Now this _is_ a development," he said, his voice gravely and low. "Tell me, how did that happen?"

"I would if you would get off of me, you brute," she snarled, not appreciating the feeling of being so dominated by him. It stirred something primal and animalistic inside of her that she didn't care to examine while she was at his mercy. After all, the whole reason she'd been looking for him was to get better control of her wolf.

To her surprise, Fenrir hopped up off of her, before offering her a hand to help her up. Once she was on her feet, she gave the other werewolf a good look over. Unlike her and Remus, he was strong, brawny and full of vitality. She was quite positive that no one would ever dare to call him frail. His body was on full display in a pair of jeans and a partially open flannel shirt, and Hermione wondered when he'd gotten a wardrobe upgrade, seeing as he'd previously wore a ripped up pair of track pants. His long, dark brown hair was free and his bright blue eyes were looking at her with curiosity, and if she were honest, a bit of a leer. Crossing her arms over her chest in an effort to shield herself, she thanked him quietly.

"Why were you following me?" Greyback asked with a frown. "I suppose I don't need to ask how you found me since I know now that you are a werewolf. I warn you, if you are here on behalf of the ministry, I won't go quietly."

Hermione scoffed at that, as if she ever thought that was a possibility. Even with her wand, he was a formidable man and she didn't think she'd be able to capture him on her own, even if she wanted to. "I was looking for you. I have a favor to ask of you," she said quietly. In her mind, this whole interaction had gone much more smoothly than it was in reality. She didn't expect to be so overwhelmed by his presence, hoping that her strong personality would allow her to take charge of the conversation.

Fenrir smirked at her, before stepping closer to her, a large arm wrapping around her back just to pull her flush with his body. "A favor? What is it Granger? Are you looking to rut with a real werewolf? Tired of Lupin?" his voice dropped even lower while he whispered in her ear, sending a thrill up her spine.

She blushed at his insinuation, but shook her head firmly. "I'm not _with_ Remus," she insisted, finding the idea odd, seeing as he'd been her professor once. "And I _do not_ want to rut with you," she said, feeling a bit of her previous fire bleeding back into her. "I was hoping...well, I've been having trouble with my transformations."

Fenrir frowned at her words, all previous playfulness leaving him, though he didn't release her body. "What sort of trouble?" he asked.

Hermione was surprised by just how... _concerned_ Greyback seemed to be for her. "I...it's agony, month after month, and no matter how much Remus promises, it never gets any better. I wake up the day after the moon bloodied and battered," she said, her voice cracking as the emotion of her pain and despair welled back up in her. "I'm tearing myself to pieces and I can't go on like that anymore," she whispered.

She could feel Fenrir's intake of breath and it was clear that he wasn't expecting her words. He pulled away from her for a moment, looking at her critically. "Show me," he prompted her.

The brunette brought her hands to the edge of her shirt, before pulling it up overhead, no longer bothered by the idea of Greyback or anyone really, seeing her body. She turned around to show him her most recent scar which would forever be on her shoulder. Her breath hitched when she felt his fingers touch the puckered pink skin, not yet fully healed. He didn't stop there, though, his fingers dropping to the bite mark on the indent of her waist. "Who did this to you?" he asked, his tone dangerous and on edge.

Hermione turned around, pulling her shirt back in place. "I'm not ready...I'm not ready to talk about that yet," she said, keeping her eyes firmly on the ground. Still, memories of _that_ day started to swirl in her mind, a painful memory that she would never be able to forget. "About the day I was _infected_ ," she spat.

Greyback tensed at the hatred that was in her voice. "I won't have you talk about our kind like that, Hermione," he said, grabbing her chin in his hand and forcing her to look up at him. They had a considerable height difference and she felt her neck strain while she attempted to meet his eyes. "How do you expect me to help you?"

"Well, I've noticed that you don't have any scars. You don't seem to have any problem with the transformation," Hermione said softly, pressing her hand against the bare skin of his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat through the skin. "It seems like you...understand it all. I've even heard it said that you can transform at will. Obviously you've figured out some way to _control_ the transformation and I want you to teach me. I don't think I can go another year the way I have been. I want Hermione Granger back."

Fenrir gave her a little look that she couldn't seem to understand, before looking off into the distance. "I will guide you through the transformation," he finally agreed with a grim look on his face. "You will come back to the forest on the day of the Full Moon," he instructed. He released her chin, trailing his fingertips down her exposed throat before dropping his hand to his side.

"How will I find you?" she questioned, remembering the two and a half days of trekking she'd done to find him this time.

"Don't worry, I'll find you," he answered with a smirk, which she would have previously read as sinister, but now she could see that he was just teasing her. "Until then, Hermione, keep your strength up."

Hermione stood in the clearing, watching as he ran away and she wondered if she was making the right decision. She hoped that transforming with Fenrir would help her, but she supposed she had nothing to lose at this point should it not. With her objective completed, she walked to the bank of the stream, before stripping out of her clothes. She dunked herself in the cold water, scrubbing at her hair and body with bare hands, hoping to get Fenrir's scent off of her. She'd change her clothes and leave the ones she'd wore in her beaded bag so that Remus wouldn't notice.

By the time she would return to Grimmauld Place, she would have been _missing_ for nearly three days and she didn't need Fenrir's name to come up in the inevitable argument with Remus.


	3. Chapter 3

It was one thing to sneak out of Grimmauld Place at some random time in the Moon's cycle, but it was an entirely different beast to try to slip away from Remus's watchful eyes on the day of the Full Moon. She knew it was going to lead to _another_ shouting match, but she also knew there was no way she was going to let Remus keep her in. He might not want to accept it, but she was an adult, perfectly capable, of-age witch and she didn't need to bend to his directives.

All week, she'd been feeling the Moon's effects rather acutely, like some humming deep in her bones. Now that she'd finally reached the day she was supposed to meet up with Fenrir to go through the transformation, it was almost like she couldn't sit still from all the excess energy.

Remus was aware of her restlessness, and didn't seem too surprised when she walked into the kitchen, beaded bag in hand. "I'm leaving for the day. I won't be back until after the Full Moon has passed," she said, holding her chin up high and hoping that she sounded assertive enough for Remus not to question her.

"Does this have something to do with you leaving for a few days earlier this month?" he questioned sharply, his eyes critical and possessive. It was clear that he was still hurt over the way she'd _abandoned_ him, as he insisted, unwilling to think of why a young woman might want some time for herself. It was obvious that he didn't have any problem with the overly-reliant relationship she had with him, and didn't see how unhealthy it was.

"Maybe it does," Hermione said with a shrug. "I need to figure out a way to work through the transformations on my own, Remus. What I'm doing now isn't working, but I'm hoping that if I am out in nature the wolf might find some...comfort," she lied easily enough, hoping that he would buy her explanations.

"I told you it just takes time to get used to the change," Remus said, sounding tired and much older than his thirty-nine years.

"But it _isn't_ getting any better," Hermione insisted, annoyed that he was continuing to tell that same lie. "Listen, you just need to let me do this this month, because I am at my wit's end Remus," she told him, revealing some of the emotion that had been eating away at her for so long. "Just _one_ time of transforming out in a forest where I can run and bask in the moonlight, rather than tearing myself to pieces locked in my room." Privately, she wondered how he was able to sleep so docile in his wolf form during the moons.

"I can't let you go out there unsupervised. You could hurt someone," Remus responded, his nostrils flaring in anger that he was doing his best to tamp down. "You might think you are isolated, but you never know who will come across your path once the change has occurred."

At that, Hermione could no longer keep her temper. Slamming her hands down on the table, she was practically snarling at her friend. "Remus, this isn't my first transformation, and I am a witch after all. _Surely_ you know that I will be able to put up the appropriate wards."

"It's too dangerous," Remus said quietly.

"I was good enough to keep Ron, Harry and I safe from the snatchers for months. I can handle keeping myself contained," she told him, hating the way her more lupine traits were on full display, but unable to stop when he talked down to her like she was some kind of fragile child. Grabbing the waiting vial of wolfsbane waiting on the table, she pulled the cork out before throwing it in Remus's face. "See, I am even taking my bloody wolfsbane, Remus! So I'll have my mind." She drank the disgusting concoction in two gulps, hating the way the taste lingered on her tongue.

Finally starting to react, Remus stood up from the table, just as irritable as she was. It was good to see that he didn't have as much control over himself as he wanted. "I won't let you do this, Hermione," he growled back at her, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Pulling out her wand, Hermione prepared to apparate. "I wasn't aware that I needed your permission, Remus." Before he had a chance to respond, she was already gone.

* * *

Once she arrived in the same general area of the forest that she'd found Fenrir in last time, she quickly set up the tent. She was so full of anger from her argument with Remus and unspent energy from the moon's pull, that she knew she wasn't going to be able to have a quiet afternoon of reading while she was waiting for the other werewolf to show up. Hopping up, she began walking around looking for suitable firewood to build herself a small fire. It was menial work, but it was enough to distract her, until her anger had abated and she had a crackling fire to distract her.

Earlier than she expected, Fenrir came walking into her little camp, with a large deer balanced across his broad shoulders, his hands holding onto the legs. As a greeting, he threw the dead animal down in front of her feet. "What's this?" Hermione asked, a bit annoyed by how casual he was being with her.

Giving her a grin, showing off sharp canines that were too sharp for a normal human, he knelt down next to the animal. "Dinner," he said a bit cheekily, grabbing out a knife so that he could begin to skin the deer.

Hermione wouldn't give him the satisfaction of responding, knowing that he was just looking for an excuse to tease her. Instead, she leaned back against a tree trunk and watched as he meticulously began butchering the deer. He was quite skilled with his knife and the speed in which he handled it indicated that he was very practiced in this particular skill. Once he was done, he vanished the pile of unwanted bits with a wand that she wasn't even aware that he had.

He looked around the forest floor for a sharp stick, before pushing two...well, she supposed they could be considered steaks onto it, and holding it over the flames of the fire. Unbidden, a little noise of confusion left her throat. "What, expect I just eat all my meat raw, did you?" he questioned with another one of those grins that seemed to make her heart flutter in nerves.

"Well, I..." she trailed off, before realizing that _yes_ , that is what she'd assumed. "I figured you would. I've grown accustomed to eating my meat very rare, especially this close to the change."

Fenrir nodded in understanding. "I won't cook it too much, just a quick sear," he explained, watching the venison very carefully as it cooked over the fire. Once they were done, he hesitantly held out the stick for her to take her pick of the two.

"For me?" she asked, completely in shock that he would care enough about her physical needs to feed her. It did smell better than heaven, though, so she was happy to take the kebob that her dinner was waiting on.

"Of course. You'll need your strength tonight," he said, looking her body up and down, but not in a way that she felt was too disrespectful. "You look too thin as it is. Has Lupin been starving you?"

Hermione snorted at that, thinking about all the little meals that they made together. No, it wasn't that she was being starved, but rather that she just never felt like she had much of an appetite, far too focused on feeling sorry for herself. Gesturing towards her little tent, she stood up. "Shall we eat in the tent? I've got a table and plates and everything."

Fenrir didn't respond, but did follow her inside. He looked around, obviously amazed at everything that was hidden inside of it. Once he was in there, all hulking and strong, Hermione was distinctly aware of how much smaller it seemed. He sat down at the table while Hermione summoned plates and cutlery and placed a steak on each one.

He watched her with those piercing blue eyes of his as she cut a dainty piece and took an equally dainty bite. Snorting, he picked up the steak with one hand, obviously not bothered by the residual heat from the fire, ripping into it with his teeth. "You will eat all of that," he ordered, pointing at her plate.

Before she could stop herself, she was giggling at the absurdity of the situation. "I never imagined I'd be sitting with Fenrir Greyback, being instructed to clean my plate or else," she said with a smile. "Though, I never imagined I'd be turned into a werewolf either, so..." Shaking her head, she desperately wanted to get off of that topic before he asked any questions she wasn't ready to answer. "What will you do with the rest of the deer?"

"Smoke some of the meat so that it dries. Jerky won't go bad," he said with a shrug, making his body look far too big for the tiny picnic bench he was sitting on.

They didn't talk through the rest of the meal, but Hermione did polish off her plate, surprised by how content she felt, some of her nervous energy dissipating in Fenrir's presence. Eventually, though he was standing from the table. "It's time we headed outside," he said, sensing the moon's position in the sky.

Reluctantly, Hermione followed him out, knowing what was about to follow. He was already unbuttoning his shirt by the time that he got outside, unwilling to tear his clothes during the transformation. Hermione tried to keep her eyes off of the skin that was revealed to her, stretched taut over strong muscle.

Forcing her eyes to her own feet, she quickly untied her boots, knowing that she should probably begin to undress as well. She'd been so used to this act of disrobing in preparation for the moon rise, but it was a different thing to do it in front of Fenrir and not Remus. Fingers shaking, she pulled her sweater up over her head, before working the snap of her jeans and pushing those down her hips as well. Stealing herself, she promised herself that she would be brave before removing her final two articles of clothing, revealing her nakedness.

To her surprise, Fenrir kept his eyes on her face, not letting them drop to look at her form as she'd expected. She'd been imagining leering and slobbering, but instead, he was being respectful. Meanwhile, her own traitorous eyes were peering through the darkness to dart lower and lower down his chest. Blushing, she internally scolded herself for being so rude.

Before she was able to apologize, a bolt of pain was ripping through her body, bringing her to her knees. A guttural noise was ripped from her throat, and she felt tears form in her eyes when she felt her bones stretching to accommodate the change. Gasping for air, but not being able to find enough, she dropped onto her back, praying that this would be over soon. Freshly clawed hands flexed at her sides, wanting nothing more than to tear at the flesh that was holding her back.

"It does no good to fight it little girl, give in to what you are," Fenrir said with that feral grin on his face, staring down at her as she writhed in pain on the ground, as of yet completely unaffected by the cool light of the moon.

Hermione glared at the hulking man, and questioned why she had decided to turn to him of all people to guide her through her transformation. All of Remus's warnings to never seek Greyback out came back, seeming to taunt her from her prone position on the ground. Gritting her teeth, she reminded herself of the months of pain the morning after the Full Moon. Fenrir had been, unfortunately, her best option. "That's easy for you to say," Hermione grit out, feeling her bones shift and crack, making her gasp in pain. "You've been doing this for years."

"It has more to do with embracing the change," Fenrir scolded, kneeling down at her side. "Though experience does make it easier." He rolled his neck, the transformation beginning to take hold of him as well. "Relax," he commanded.

However, Hermione found it was impossible to relax, panic flooding her body while her pupils widened until little was left of her iris at all. A scream was torn from her throat and before she could stop it, she was clawing at her legs, wanting to get rid of all that _energy_.

Fenrir was looking at her with concern, huffing through his own transformation. "This isn't normal," he insisted, his voice guttural and no longer completely human.

But, Hermione was too far gone at this point to respond. Instead, the change ripped through her body, leaving her finally in the form of the werewolf, and she was eager to lash out at this new companion. She was going to lash out at _something_ and it was better him than her own body, she thought, before throwing her body into the giant, black wolf beside her, baring teeth.

The other wolf, though, was not as docile as Remus, and was not content to just keep her at paw's length. Instead, he charged forward, snapping and snarling, before easily jumping on her, overpowering the tiny werewolf who'd punched above her weight. He dropped his muzzle to her neck, teeth ready to clamp down should she struggle. Hermione's wolf recognized the show of dominance for what it was and let all the fight leave her canine body, an instinct that she couldn't stop.

Laying down, she felt the other wolf press a paw across her back, his teeth never leaving the scruff of her neck. He growled softly as he laid down as well, suspicious of any movement that she might make.

* * *

Hermione woke the following morning by an enraged Fenrir shaking her awake. She looked around and noticed that it was barely sunrise, so she must have changed back recently. Her whole body ached again, adorned with one fresh set of cuts, but little other damage. Her head pounded with each beat of her heart and all of Fenrir's yelling wasn't doing much to help. Sitting up, she realized that they were both still very much naked, and she quickly covered herself as best she could with her hands.

Rolling his eyes, Fenrir stood up snarling at her. "Oh for fuck's sake, go get dressed then." He began searching the forest ground for his own clothing, quickly pulling on his own jeans but not bothering with the shirt.

Once she was standing, barely having been able to get dressed again, she looked up at Fenrir with guilty eyes. "That's what it's like _every_ time," she whispered. "Though, normally I don't have anyone but myself to attack. I'm sorry." It was humiliating to know that she'd had to be dominated by him.

"That is not normal," Greyback said, grabbing her chin in one strong hand, looking into her eyes, willing her to know how serious he was. "Did you take wolfsbane?"

"Of course I did," Hermione hissed dismissively. "I take it every month."

It was clear that that answer was one that Greyback wasn't happy with, a look of pure disgust on his face. "Wolfsbane is _poison_ , and if you think that I will try and help you again when you are poisoning yourself with it, you have another thing coming."

"I'm sorry," she said, even though she had a hard time believing him. Just how could it be poison when Remus used it constantly. "Next time, I won't take it again."

"If there is to be a next time," Fenrir snarled, "there will be instructions you will follow. You will not take wolfsbane while you are in my presence. It wasn't only dangerous to you, but to me as well. I do not trust that you cannot follow this simple instruction, so you will join me two weeks before the next Full Moon."

Hermione swallowed thickly, wondering how she was going to float _that_ by Remus. It was hard enough to leave this time. "I..I," she stuttered, thinking over her next words. She needed to accept that she didn't _care_ what Remus thought at this point, since deep down, she knew that he wouldn't be able to help her the way that Fenrir would. "I will do that."

"And, you will remain here with me for three months," he said, releasing her chin, before crossing arms across his chest.

"That's...that's too much," Hermione said weakly.

"At the end, I am sure that you will have the _control_ you seek," Fenrir said, a frown on his face. "Plus, you need time to learn the way of the werewolf. You have been changed and you need to acknowledge it. If you cannot agree to these terms, don't bother to step foot in this forest ever again."

He didn't give her an opportunity to respond before he was leaving her standing alone in the clearing once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Although Fenrir's terms had been quite harsh, Hermione knew that there was no way that she was going to pass up the opportunity to learn from him. Despite still reacting badly to the transformation, his presence had been surprisingly calming for her wolf. She hadn't done nearly as much damage to herself as usual, and she knew that it was a step in the right direction.

Remus hadn't seen it the same way, saying that she seemed just as beat up having spent the night in the forest rather than in her room. She held her tongue anyway, not wanting to give away what she'd been up to with Fenrir, knowing that he would be very disappointed in her. She also didn't want to get into an argument with the older man about how it was all going to get better if she just gave it time.

Knowing that she didn't have much time to prepare, Hermione began to diligently fill the supplies of her little beaded bag, not knowing exactly what all she would need. Spending her time double brewing potions was time consuming but she got it done. She tucked away clothing and books, hoping that Remus wouldn't notice, and feeling glad that it was nearly summer, so she wouldn't have to take thicker clothing.

Finally, the day she was meant to meet Fenrir came, and Hermione knew that she had to break the news to her housemate. It would be too much for her to just disappear for three months and it might make Harry and the Weasleys actually notice something was up. It hadn't taken her long to come up with a plausible alibi.

Looking up from her eggs on toast, Hermione regarded the haggard looking werewolf, hair now more grey than blond. "I'm leaving for Australia today," she said simply, without emotion. "It's time that I start looking for my parents."

Remus stilled, his eyes snapping up to meet hers with suspicion. "What do you mean, you are going to Australia?" he questioned.

"I need to find my parents and bring them home," she told him again, hating bringing up the conversation. Her parents were a topic that she didn't care to think about too much, knowing that there was no way to reverse the spell that she'd placed on them. She had spent time mourning their loss privately, while she was on the run with Harry and Ron, but the ache never seemed to leave her. "Or at least, I have to try."

"No! I forbid it!" Remus shouted, pounding his hand on the table, the utensils bouncing from the force, making Hermione flinch. This was certainly the most intense she'd ever seen her former professor. "It's _too_ dangerous, Hermione. You know that with our condition...I can't let you go off on your own like that."

"This is _exactly_ why I left last Full Moon," Hermione lied, but hating the way that he always seemed to baby her. "I had to prove to myself that I could do it on my own, and I succeeded. Maybe I don't need you as much as you need me, Remus," she snarled, knowing that he took a lot of support from her presence, unwilling to be alone after Tonks and their child had died.

"You've tried once, Hermione. You are a _danger_ to people everywhere if you don't have someone experienced guiding you along," Remus said, his voice sounding tired. "You think your family will understand what you've become? Most wizards and witches can't even accept werewolves into their society."

That did sting, Hermione thought bitterly. All this time, Remus had been lying to her, telling her that it would be all okay, when really he'd come to the same conclusion as she had. "I am not dangerous when I have the wolfsbane potion, and I have packed more than enough to get me through a couple of months."

"A couple of months?" he asked, incredulously. "I will not allow it, Hermione. End of discussion."

Hermione jutted out her jaw at her, unwilling to be cowed by the shell of a man. "I am leaving and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Remus. I am an adult, and I get to make my own decisions. Now, _this_ is the end of the discussion. See you in a few months," she snarled, before banishing her plate and apparating away to that familiar place in the forest.

Crouching down, Hermione hugged her arms around her legs while she cried, huge sobs shaking her body. Was it really worth all of this trouble? She'd known for months now that the wizarding world would never see her as more than an out of control monster, but she'd still had a glimmer of hope that she would be the one to trailblaze, to make things different for werewolves. Now that she knew Remus saw it the same way, but still continued to lie anyway was like a dagger to the heart.

A hand on her back had her stilling immediately, embarrassed that Fenrir had been able to sneak up on her despite her superior senses. Looking up at him in shame, she wished that her (former?) enemy wasn't seeing her in such a weak and pitiful state. Instead, he used a hand to cup her jaw, making her look into his stormy blue eyes. "What's the matter, Hermione?" he questioned seriously.

Wiping at her cheeks to erase the evidence of her tears, Hermione gave him a bitter laugh. "Oh, Remus and I just had a fight when I told him I was leaving, that's all," Hermione frowned to the other man. "He seems to think that he has a say in what I do with my life and he isn't above hurtful comments to get his way."

Fenrir gave her a knowing look. "Enough thought about Lupin. He's half the werewolf you are. He's always been afraid of the wolf inside him," Fenrir said with a grin. "You are taking the steps to _embrace_ the wolf. Now, you haven't been taking that poison, have you?"

Hermione forced herself not to shudder at his use of the word embrace...she would have chosen a different one, but she wasn't about to argue with someone as powerful as Fenrir. "I haven't taken it since the last Full Moon...one usually wouldn't start until a week before, but I did bring it with," Hermione said honestly. "Mostly just to try and convince Remus I wouldn't be a _danger_."

The man held out his hand expectantly. "Come, hand me the vials. We will dump them out," he explained.

Reluctantly, Hermione handed him all 21 vials that she'd prepared painstakingly. Watching as he uncorked each one and poured it on the forest floor, she tried not to be overcome by the sinking fear of losing her supposed lifeline. Once the last one was empty, Hermione returned the empty bottles to her beaded bag, barely able to choke out a thank you.

Fenrir must have noticed her discomfort because he was grinning at her with those sharp teeth once again. "Nervous?" he asked, offering her a hand to help her up.

"No, just...thinking about all that aconite wasted," Hermione lied to him. "It's a very expensive potion to make." Steeling herself, she decided that she would not be nervous. That she would trust Fenrir, no matter how preposterous that would have seemed to her a year prior. She'd tried Remus's way for long enough and she was going to learn everything she could from someone who lived as a _proper_ werewolf.

They started walking in the direction Fenrir seemed to have come from, generating tons of questions from Hermione. She wondered just what they were meant to do with their three months together. "So, what exactly do you do when you aren't transforming?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, I tend to live fairly nomadically, mostly out of necessity," Fenrir explained. "I usually move after each transformation, out of the hopes that I won't be caught. But when I had a pack, we tended to stay in one spot."

Hermione grimaced, thinking of what it must be like to be out in the woods, completely isolated. She thought of her time shut up with Remus in Grimmauld Place. "That must be very lonely. I'm sorry," she said honestly.

"Yes," Fenrir said, his voice a bit gruff. "It's not the way I'd like to live, but I know that someday, I will lead another pack," he murmured, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

She resisted the urge to elbow him in the side, jokingly. She hoped that he didn't think she would be some part of his pack. They had a limited time together, and once she'd learned all that she could, she was going to return to the Wizarding World and get a job. Once she had her transformations under control the way that Greyback did, she just knew that she'd be able to handle holding a steady job. Finally looking forward to the future, Hermione happily followed Greyback along until they came upon his little shelter.

It wasn't much more than a glorified lean-to, filled with furs that Hermione imagined he used to sleep on. There was a small fire pit, and it seemed as if he was working on smoking some meat in a makeshift cooker. In short, it left a lot to be desired.

Clearing her throat cautiously, Hermione found herself staring at Fenrir's chest, hating how much he embodied the big, bad wolf trope. "Um, Greyback, I was thinking...I've brought my tent with and well, it has to be more comfortable than sleeping in that," she pointed at his barely protected from the elements bed, hoping that she didn't offend the outdoorsman. "It's got bunk beds, from when the boys and I were on the run, if you want to take one."

Fenrir grinned down at her. "You don't want to share a bed for warmth?" he teased her, laughing at the pink color of her cheeks.

"No," Hermione said pointedly, the idea of sharing a bed with _any_ man seeming foreign and exciting at the same time. "Besides, I don't think there'd be enough room for the both of us. Here, I'll show you," she babbled, eager to do something to save her some of the embarrassment of his forward suggestion.

It didn't take long for her to locate the tent, and with a flick of her wand, it was resized and open. Seeing as they'd shared dinner in the tent previously, Fenrir was already familiar with the enchantments, but he followed her inside to see the sleeping situation. He seemed happy enough to sleep with an actual roof over his head, and headed out to deconstruct the lean-to, covering the bottom bunk with the furs.

Once that was settled, Hermione showed him some of the other things that she'd brought with her from home, including all of the foodstuffs. The brunette got the impression that he was quite happy to live completely off the land, but he wasn't immune to the joy some wizarding comforts could bring. His eyes seemed to linger on the packet of liquorice wands, which had her hiding a smile. The idea of Greyback enjoying something so mundane seemed to shatter the illusion he'd crafted for himself.

Seeing that other side of him made the three months ahead of her seem far less daunting.

* * *

Hermione woke the morning of the Full Moon buzzing with energy. Being that she'd been sleeping in a bunk bed with Fenrir for the past fourteen nights meant that she had zero privacy and zero space to engage in some of the behaviors that she normally would have done in her bed late at night. She couldn't imagine something so embarrassing as being caught touching herself, even though she knew it would help burn off some of the extra nerves.

She was nervous to try transforming without the wolfsbane potion, but she was ready to follow all of Fenrir's directions, same as she'd been doing so far. She'd spent most of her time so far learning to clean animal caracasses that Fenrir hunted down, and then prepare them for cooking or drying. It was unpleasant at first, but now she approached it with a bit of detachment. He promised her that he'd teach her to hunt, too, but only after she'd put some muscle back on, as he frequently reminded her she was too weak to go on long runs or walks, which irritated her and only made her more determined to eat more. It was odd, each hard fought meal seemed much more palatable than the carefully prepared meals that Remus had given her.

Logically, she could accept that it was _useful_ to learn these kinds of skills. Who knew when Harry would decide that she'd overstayed her welcome at Grimmauld Place? There was a real chance that she could end up with nowhere to stay, and being able to take care of herself made sense.

Still, survival skills were not the reason that she'd come to Fenrir in the first place. The anticipation of her first ever transformation without the use of the wolfsbane potion made her basically useless all day. She nearly shouted for joy when she finally felt the temperature drop, knowing that moonrise was not that far off. She wasn't eager to go through the change, but she was ready to just get it over with.

When it was time to prepare, she met Fenrir in the little clearing and automatically removed her clothes the same as she did every Full Moon. There was something that just felt right about being naked and out in nature, something that made her wolf sing. Despite her better judgement, she found herself cautiously looking at Fenrir's body, all muscle and sinew, the look of a predator. Some small part of herself wanted to run her hand up the hot skin that covered his arms, his chest.

Unfortunately, he caught her staring in curiosity, making her blush. Usually, he'd tease her with some kind of bawdy comment, but he instead scolded her. "You need to get your mind right, Hermione," he said gruffly. "Focus on the transformation you are about to go through."

By the time the moon rose, she didn't need to be reminded. The pain was blinding hot, same as usual, making her clench her jaw in agony. But then, Fenrir was there next to her, wrapping her an embrace to help hold her up. "It's okay, don't fight it," he whispered into her ear, coaching her through the change. "Embrace the pain and let the wolf have control. I know it's hard, but you have to trust me." Against her better judgement, she forced herself to relax, giving up all the fight that she had. Immediately she felt the wolf inside her purring with delight.

And then, the world went black.

* * *

Hermione woke the morning after the Full Moon flat on her back next to Fenrir's larger body. Her whole body felt sore, but she could tell that something was different. Wiggling her toes, she didn't find any evidence of stress on her bones.

She sat up rapidly, sucking in a breath when she got a bit dizzy. Once that had passed, she looked over her body eagerly, running her hands over her rib cage and legs, but finding no cuts, wounds or gashes. It hadn't been easy, but it was certainly _better_. She couldn't stop the grin from spreading across her face.

"So?" Fenrir said expectantly from next to her, his blue eyes looking her up and down for any sign of discomfort, and without any lascivious intent. "How was it?"

"I'm still very sore, but I didn't tear myself to shreds either," Hermione croaked, her vocal cords a bit sore. Had she been up all night howling? "And I have to say that not knowing what I did last night is disconcerting. I don't remember anything after you told me to let go."

Fenrir nodded. "That _will_ take some time to get used to," he explained. "The more transformations that you go through, the less pain there will be on waking. Just think of it like exercising your muscles," he said, before standing and walking over to where his clothes were waiting, turning away so that he could pull on his jeans with some dignity.

Hermione tried not to look at his back side, instead scrambling to find her own clothes. "And the memory loss? Even though I hated the transformations before, the wolfsbane allowed me to at least remember what I'd done. What if I'd attacked someone?"

"Give your wolf a chance," Fenrir said, turning to face her once more. "Once you become more in tune with it, you will begin to remember things, but right now the wolf is on the defensive, because of the wolfsbane you've been poisoning it with. You don't have to worry about what you did last night. Mostly just enjoyed _being_ a wolf — howling, lots of running around, and you even tried to catch a squirrel," he told her with a chuckle.

"Good to know." She felt her cheeks go a bit pink in embarrassment. That didn't sound _so_ bad, she supposed. But at the same time, she wondered if Fenrir would tell her if she'd mauled some campers that she'd come across. Still, it was promising to hear that she might actually learn to remember what she'd done while in wolf form. After all, Fenrir certainly could, so why wouldn't she be able to?

Fenrir looked at her with a smirk. "Get some rest today, because you were up all night," he instructed. "Tomorrow, we will move to a new location."

Hermione did not need to be told twice and hustled inside the tent to get a bit more rest.


	5. Chapter 5

After living with Fenrir for a whole month, Hermione found that she was really coming to enjoy his presence in her life. He was always incredibly patient with her, answering her myriad questions and explaining things comprehensively. It was a very refreshing turn of events from her time at Hogwarts where she always felt like people just got annoyed with her for not knowing or being curious about things she didn't know.

And she found that she wanted to know _everything_ about what being a werewolf meant. Fenrir told her about how he was infected with the disease when he was just a boy, same as Remus, but that he didn't have the support network that her housemate had had. Fenrir was not permitted to go to Hogwarts, or any other school, which made Hermione feel quite sad for him. It meant that his magical education was quite stunted and pieced together from the little things he'd picked up from his mother.

She felt better knowing that she could give back to the man a bit as well, explaining some of the details of spell theory and even teaching him some spells he'd always wanted to learn, but never had the patience for to learn on his own. He'd grown to be mostly self-sufficient as a werewolf, though, and as a consequence, his first thought was not always to use a wand. In turn, Hermione found herself using her own wand with less frequency the longer that she was out in the forest.

It was midway through the month when he finally took her out hunting with him. Hermione was disappointed to learn that it was much more intensive than she was expecting. Fenrir would find a prey animal, only to basically run it down in the forest, before killing it with his bare hands. She could agree that she _had_ been too weak previously to participate before, but she wasn't too thrilled about hunting alongside him after she'd killed her first rabbit.

The vast majority of Fenrir's time revolved around finding enough food to keep him sustained. Sometimes during the days, he would gather berries and fruits. Hermione found a grove of apples one day and carried back as many as she could. He was only too happy to see such a treat when he came back to the tent.

Eagerly biting into the red skin of the apple, Fenrir had explained what pack life had been like. "When you have a pack, you have enough members to sustain a...well, I suppose it's almost like a village. Permanent structures, and you can cultivate things, too," he told her, leaning back against a tree.

"That sounds nice," Hermione agreed, thinking that subsisting on meat and whatever wild berries they could find alone was not particularly appetizing for long term. "But didn't you miss the comforts of the wizarding world? A solid roof over your head, running water, plumbing, potions! It seems hard to give up."

"It's better than living through the prejudice of wizards," Fenrir told her bitterly, a sneer on his face. "You should realize by now, Hermione, that no matter what a werewolf does, no matter how many hoops we jump through, we will never be recognized as _people_ , as equals. I've lived through enough reforms to know that they can never trust us, because they fear us."

Hermione thought that sounded interesting, because she hadn't ever heard much of reforms prior to the first wizarding world. "I didn't realize that there had been any changes...outside of Umbridge's heinous anti-werewolf legislation. She called werewolves _half breeds_ ," she murmured staring down at her feet.

Fenrir snorted. "That's not the worst I've been called. You have too big of a heart, Granger," he said with a wry grin. "The Dark Lord loved to laugh at your house elf promotion, and I know that because of Lupin you cared too much about werewolves, too."

"How can you care _too much_ when what's at stake is someone's dignity?" she countered, feeling her hackles rise after learning that the Dark Lord laughed at her...no doubt that was Malfoy's doing. "I can _recognize_ that I am not a 'regular' witch anymore, but I am still a sentient being, and I can make my own decisions same as anyone else. The wizarding world needs a major attitude adjustment...they think the same way about muggleborns, you know?"

"And look where your _concern_ got you — you're one of us now," Fenrir growled. "Are you going to tell me how it happened, yet?"

Bringing up how she was turned was still a sore topic for Hermione and she clammed up immediately. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she tried to blink them away, hating how she was _still_ ruled by her emotions, even though she was taking control of her life. "No, I'm not. I doubt I will be ready to talk about that for a while now."

"I thought you were beginning to trust me," Fenrir said, his voice distinctly disappointed. She wondered if that hurt him, that she couldn't open up about that one day, an instant really, in her life.

"Give me time," she insisted, quoting back his favorite saying to him. He was constantly reminding her that it would take time to adjust, but that she was making progress. "Why don't...why don't you tell me about how you're going to rebuild your pack?"

Fenrir shrugged his massive shoulders. "I need a pack to survive, but, I don't know if anyone survived from the war, but me," he confessed, his voice sounding very small. "It might be hard to convince them to follow me again after the Dark Lord."

"Why did you ever even support him in the first place? He can't have treated you very well," Hermione asked, a question that was nearly always on her mind. It didn't make sense that Fenrir would follow someone who didn't even respect him enough to give him the silly little Dark Mark. In her opinion, it seemed a very odd thing for the proud werewolf, especially now that she'd gotten to know him a little bit better.

Fenrir threw his half eaten apple at the ground, before looking up at her. "Even though I knew that the Dark Lord thought we were little more than dirt under his shoe, what he was offering... _freedom_ , the freedom to be who were _are_ as werewolves, that was worth so much more to me than the broken platitudes from the Ministry. The 'good' guys who would only accept us when we change ourselves to deny our very essential nature, then they _might_ consider tolerating us." He was sneering at the end of his little speech, obviously having lived through a lot of prejudice over his lifetime.

"All they want is for us to be under control during the full moon...so that we aren't a danger to society, mauling children..." Hermione argued, completely aware of who she was talking to and the kinds of the things that he does.

He laughed bitterly, making Hermione feel rather small. "That's _all_ they want? You've seen how different the transformation can be without that poison, Hermione. Please stop lying to yourself. A werewolf registry right now might be harmless, but in twenty years, it could be used as a tool against us," he snarled. "Why shouldn't I bite children? I was bitten as a child and I've turned out just fine! Not to mention that if werewolves can be so easily controlled, they shouldn't mind having a werewolf for a child! I wouldn't have to take them into my pack if their families _actually_ cared for them the way they should."

Hermione sat silently for a while, letting his words sink in. A knot had formed in her throat and she was positive she could dissolve into sobs at any moment. Even though she didn't want to admit it, she could admit that what Fenrir was saying made sense. She _knew_ first hand that supposedly tolerant people suddenly started acting differently when they found out you were a werewolf — her own friends had done it to her. Her dream of _acceptance_ seemed further off than ever.

Still, she never would wish lycanthropy on anyone else. "I _know_ what it feels like to not be accepted...to be derided by my peers," she began cautiously. "But you know as well as I do that this _curse_ is incredibly painful, and to inflict that on an innocent child...I — it's unimaginable to me."

"That's your problem, Hermione," Fenrir scolded. "You are still seeing lycanthropy as something you've been _cursed_ with...as though it can be fixed. But, it can't be fixed. You are a werewolf now, and you need to accept that about yourself. Then you will be able to find the peace that you are seeking during your transformations." He stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth in their little clearing, before stalking off in one chosen direction.

"Where are you going?" Hermione called after him, suddenly quite afraid to be left alone. Their conversation had brought up a lot of raw feelings for her, and Fenrir's presence would have brought her comfort. She was surprised to realize that he made her feel _safe_.

"I need to cool off," he called over his shoulder, not stopping to look at her. "I'm rather upset and killing something would make me feel better."

* * *

While the tent had added some human comforts to life in the camp, it was not the same as living in Grimmauld Place. Perhaps the biggest issue that Hermione had come to realize was lack of running water. While a simple _aguamenti_ was enough for cooking and drinking water, it did not work very well as a bath. She swore that she was having inappropriate dreams about having a long soak in the claw-foot tub in her room at Grimmauld Place.

The only recourse was to join Fenrir on walks down to the stream so that she could wash herself, the same as he did. She was a little bit surprised to learn how often he indulged in swimming, seeing as she'd always imagined he was the kind of person who didn't have time for cleaning. The bad guys were all meant to be smelly and dirty, after all, weren't they?

Fenrir had absolutely no shame about his body and would readily strip down and jump into the water. Despite having lost most sense of modesty after being changed into a werewolf, mostly just because it was a luxury she couldn't afford, Hermione found that undressing to bathe together added a new sense of shyness. She wasn't getting naked to avoid tearing her clothes when her body reformed...there wasn't a purpose or an _excuse_ for it.

Still, she didn't want to seem anything less than brave, so she forced herself to strip down time and time again, before covering herself with the cold water. Fenrir would generally leave her to herself to scrub down with bits of soap and shampoo that she'd packed before she came to the forest to meet him.

Being that it was the day of the full moon, Hermione was a ball of energy again, and she found it difficult to focus on washing her hair, almost as if every nerve in her body was on edge. Holding her breath, she dunked her head under the water, washing all the suds out of her curly locks.

When she resurfaced, she let out a squeak of surprise when she saw Fenrir standing before her in all his naked glory. It was clear that he was not shy about his body, and really, she didn't see why he should be. He was all bunching muscle, _powerful_ and strong and primal, and...she snapped her eyes back up to his, only to see that he was giving her body a rather appreciative look as well.

Stepping a bit closer to her, his curious face was slowly transformed by a grin. "You are looking _much_ better, Hermione," he complimented. She resisted the urge to cover her body, by keeping her arms down firmly at her sides. "You should have come to see me right away when you were turned. I never would have let you get so sickly."

"Remus warned me about you," Hermione said, shakily, wondering if he knew how much his proximity was affecting her. Judging by the hungry look in his eyes, she figured that he probably knew _exactly_ what he was doing. "He told me never to seek you out."

"Well, clearly I know how to take better care of you than _Remus_ ever could," he grinned, again stepping closer. "I know what you need," he promised.

Hermione took a stumbling step backwards, confused by the mess of feelings he was stirring up in her. "Remus and I aren't like that," she insisted shakily, her cheeks going red in embarrassment. "And I don't need anyone to take care of me."

"Somehow, I doubt that, Hermione," his voice dropped to a graveley rumble that had her going a bit weak in the knees. With one last grin, he walked past her, patting her on her bare shoulder. "Come, we should get back to the campsite. Moonrise isn't far off."

* * *

After a quick meal of roast rabbit and some wild blueberries, Hermione sat near the small fire that Fenrir had prepared for them, waiting impatiently for the sun to set. She was excited to see what this month's transformation would bring, mostly because she felt that she might combust from all the excess energy.

She seemed to be annoying Fenrir with all her fidgeting, because he finally snapped at her. "Stop all your fluttering about, Hermione, and focus. The moon is not far off."

"How do you manage it?" she questioned immediately. "I feel as if I will die if I don't get up and move around. I think I could run a marathon right now from all the nerves."

"You are wound too tightly," he said with a laugh. "You should try touching yourself. Some people find that the release they find from sexual climax helps free their mind and eases the change. It lets their guard down and their wolf take over."

Hermione snarled at him, all politeness left behind the closer she came to moon rise. "Be serious, Fenrir. That's not what _you_ do. Do you mean to tell me you can't feel the moon calling you at all?"

He gave her a mischievous look. "I've done it before. But you are right — I do feel the moon's pull, only, I feel it all the time, even during the new moon. After years of changes, I've become more sensitive to it. You will as well, if you embrace it."

Before they could talk anymore, the change was upon them, rippling through their bodies as the moon's rays touched their skin. Hermione tried to remember all of Fenrir's instructions from last time and found that it was easier. She wasn't dreading the pain as much, knowing it was manageable, and so this time it seemed nearly effortless to give up control. Her bones cracked and reformed and in an instant, she was a wolf.

* * *

Hermione came to as soon as the transformation had reversed itself, with a broad smile on her face. Sitting up too quickly, she groaned a bit feeling the pain in her muscles radiating. Only, it wasn't as bad as before, now nothing more than a dull ache and the occasional twinge.

Turning, she looked to see Fenrir from his position on the ground, staring at her curiously. "And how did you find your moon this time, Hermione? Do you remember anything?"

Nodding rapidly, Hermione found that she was far too excited to speak at the moment. It wasn't _perfect_ by any stretch of the imagination, but she did manage to piece together a few memories from her time as a wolf. She remembered running around the forest, chasing a large black wolf with a grey stripe down his back and having him chase her in turn. She remembered looking for prey, but finding the pickings to be thin that evening. She remembered howling up and the moon's beauty and the other wolf joining in.

She remembered that it felt _right_.

Taken aback by the idea, she swallowed thickly. "Yes, I remember little bits. I know what you look like now," she said, looking at him curiously. Of course, his wolf's fur shared the color of his hair, but he didn't have any grey hair that she was aware of. "What do I look like?" she questioned, suddenly curious. She'd never cared to know _anything_ about her wolf before, too ashamed to ask Remus for details.

"You are a very beautiful wolf," Fenrir said significantly, his gaze making her feel warm, like she belonged. Breaking the serious moment, he grinned at her once again. "Come, let's get some rest," he ordered, collecting his discarded clothing but not bothering to put it in.

Hermione followed him into the tent, similarly bare. Quickly throwing on her pajamas, she reluctantly climbed up to her stop on the top bunk. It felt heavenly to lay her head down on the pillow, but as she listened to Fenrir's breathing deepen and even out, she stayed awake, wondering for the first time what it would be like to lie next to him.


	6. Chapter 6

The longer Hermione spent living in the forest with Fenrir, the more at peace she felt. For the first time in as long as she could remember, everything seemed to slow down to a manageable level. She wasn't stressed and constantly looking over her shoulder, worrying for her friends, for her life, about school, she just...was. It was something that she never expected to feel. She was grounded into nature and for the first time she was realizing that the old Hermione Granger was gone and a new one had taken her place, a person so completely tied to her lycanthropy that it couldn't be parted.

She was no longer entertaining an idea of trying to rejoin wizarding society as a normal witch, knowing that there was no going back to it. Continued conversations with Fenrir meant that her eyes were opened to the mistreatment of werewolves, and she had come to realize that no amount of playing nice with the Ministry would get them acceptance from the wizarding world at large. The idea of living separately, away from the teasing reminder of what she _could have_ had, was beginning to seem more and more reasonable.

As time had passed, she also found herself growing more comfortable with Fenrir. They'd built up a relationship together that was completely different from the one that she'd had with Remus. Her former professor seemed to enjoy being needed, and she could recognize now that many of his actions were designed to make her lean on him. While she couldn't begrudge that he wanted to be _wanted_ , she could also recognize that this wouldn't have been healthy in the long run. Fenrir was always willing to help her if she asked for it, but he was also trying to instill an independent streak inside of her again, wanting her to try and figure things out on her own. And, it had paid off. She'd felt stronger every day since she'd left Grimmauld Place.

Their relationship also had a sexual undertone that she never had with Remus, she thought with a blush. She wasn't sure what it was, but there was something building between her and the alpha werewolf that had taken her under his wing. She'd been caught more than enough times giving him lingering glances whenever he worked around their campsite. He certainly wasn't shy about showing off his body, and watching him do something as simple as carry firewood was beginning to seem very sensual to Hermione.

Fenrir also wasn't shy about returning her lustful glances, openly staring at her now whenever they bathed together, but making no moves to touch her. He'd offered to share the bed with her several times, making her heart nearly beat out of her chest everytime with anticipation, though she always declined, preferring to take refuge on the top bunk where everything seemed simpler.

It had left Hermione in an absolute state of pent up sexual desire, and she had no outlet to _expend_ the energy. The idea of just jumping Fenrir one day when they turned in for the night seemed more and more attractive. But, the witch's lingering concerns about Fenrir as a person always seemed to win out in the end.

While it was true that she'd seen a completely different side to him since becoming a werewolf, she was having a difficult time reconciling the behavior he'd exhibited while she was at Hogwarts. He made it no secret that he enjoyed turning people into werewolves, often citing Remus as an example. Deep down, she knew that this was more of a coping mechanism, designed to relieve him of some of the loneliness that he felt when he was alone as a werewolf, rather than true bloodlust. But, she also knew that he would never admit that to her face. Additionally, seeing as she was embracing her werewolf nature more fully, she could now understand how easily the bloodlust could take over.

Wanting to better understand her new friend, she found herself talking to him more about the future. Sitting in front of a fire that was quickly dwindling, she took advantage of the cold and scooted herself closer to him until they were touching. Hermione surprised herself by wishing that he would wrap one of those large arms around her.

"It's our last moon together tomorrow," she said sullenly, not wanting to give this up. "What will you do after it? Once our agreement has ended?"

"I think the bigger question is what will you do after tomorrow," he said pointedly, tilting his head so that he could look at her. "Do you still want to leave me?"

She tried not to linger on his hopeful tone, at the idea that she might want to stay with him. The idea was far more appealing than it should be. "It's not that I want to leave, it's just that I don't want to completely turn my back on my friends. I know that I won't be a normal witch, but I am sure that I can make something work," she explained, nibbling on her lower lip.

"I thought you'd figure it out by now that there is no going back to your _friends_ ," Fenrir said with a scowl on his face. "You've been gone for three months and no one has even come looking for you. Shouldn't that tell you all you need to know?"

"They think I'm in Australia," Hermione responded fiercely. "They don't know that I am really just here. And I wouldn't have had to be so secretive if it wasn't for your reputation. Maybe if you spent less time attacking children, I could have happily told them that I was coming to learn from you, instead of hiding and lying to them."

Fenrir started chuckling to himself, standing up. "I can't believe you still think that. Don't you see that they can never accept you — not truly — because they think you are a danger. They will always see you as cursed, whereas I see lycanthropy as a gift. I am stronger, better because I am a werewolf."

Hermione stood as well, not willing to end the conversation just yet. " _Yes_ , I can see now that being a werewolf is not a curse, or anything that you should have to be ashamed of. I'm not Remus," she seethed, annoyed that he didn't see much difference between her and her former Professor. "However, I think that maybe they wouldn't think of werewolves as so dangerous if they didn't go snatching children from their beds, biting them without giving them a _choice_ in the change."

Fenrir stepped closer to her, until they were chest to chest. Each of them was breathing a bit heavily, obviously worked up from their argument. "But you agree that being guided by a successful werewolf who's embraced their true inner nature is better for someone who has recently changed?" he pressed, staring at her, unwilling to blink, as though he could just stare her into submission. His hands came to her shoulders, holding her in place — holding her to him.

Hermione looked up into his eyes and noticed that his pupil was almost entirely blown, so that only a narrow ring of brilliant blue surrounded the edges. She sucked in a breath at the realization that he was _enjoying_ their little argument. "Yes," she agreed, nodding. "But I still wouldn't want someone's life to be stolen away from them like mine was."

He shook his head. "Look, you need to stop saying that your life was stolen away from you. Your path has just _changed_ , that's it," he said fiercely. "You can't let the person who changed you have this level of control over your life. Either you go back and accept their rules and you take the wolfsbane and you tear yourself apart until there is nothing left but tatters...or you could stay here with me and embrace your life fully."

He pressed his lips against hers suddenly, catching Hermione by surprise. Still, she melted into the kiss, loving the way that he dominated her mouth fully, taking away all of her swirling thoughts and replacing them with nothing but pure sensation. He pressed his tongue past the seam of her lips, catching her lower lip between sharp canines. Hermione moaned into him, never wanting the moment to stop...

But just as soon as it had started, it was over. Fenrir looked at her significantly. "I'm going to go for a hunt," he said, even though it was already quite dark and she was sure that he wouldn't catch anything even if he really wanted to. "Think about what you want, Hermione."

She watched him leave the campsite, feeling more confused than she had ever been, unsure of how to untangle all of her individual emotions. She slunk into the tent, a bit embarrassed by how quickly she'd melted as soon as Fenrir threw a bit of affection her way. Her feet led her to the bottom bunk of the bed, and she quickly slipped under the sheets, hoping that Fenrir would see her in his spot and understand.

She fell asleep waiting for him to come back.

* * *

Fenrir did not return to their campsite until sunset the following day. Hermione knew that he was trying to give her some space to work out her feelings, but she'd begun to worry that he was going to leave her to transform all on her own, a scary prospect having had _someone_ every time the moon rose. She was frightened at the idea of trying to change all on her own.

Before she could panic too much, he'd come sauntering back into the clearing, not saying anything. Instead, he quickly worked on unbuttoning the shirt on his back, eager to strip down and bathe in the light of the moon. Hermione copied his motions, knowing that there was no time to have a real discussion before the transformation would hit.

The change came on quickly this time, and Hermione was ready for the stretching and the pain, but she found that it had lessened the more that she relaxed into it. It seemed that Fenrir really _had_ been able to keep his promises that it would get better, something that had never come true the whole while she'd been living with Remus. She wondered how many months of agony she would have had to go through if she'd never found Fenrir.

Being a wolf was easier to handle now too. It was happy enough to let her come along for the ride while she ran around the trees, darting after this animal or that, or chasing her mentor's swishing tail. She was surprised by just how playful Fenrir had turned out to be, seeing as she'd only been told horror stories about him before, about how he was bloodthirsty and savage. But here, in the moonlight, he was happy to prance around, entertaining her as though she was nothing more than a naughty puppy.

Now that her wolf had a bit more free range, she was pleased to learn that she didn't have _quite_ so much energy to burn off. Before she knew it, she was chasing Fenrir back to their clearing, having stretched her legs enough that night. When they got back to the campsite, she jumped on the larger werewolf, tackling him to the ground. He nipped at her playfully, but Hermione knew that he would never hurt her.

Freeing herself from the tangle of long limbs, she walked around in a circle several times on the leaves, driven by instinct to make a nest, before lying down in a ball to get some sleep before the sunrise. A noise of content escaped her throat when she felt Fenrir lying down behind her, his long body pressed against her.

* * *

Hermione woke up the following day well past sunrise, surprised at how late she had slept. She wasn't used to getting any rest while she was in werewolf form, normally too eager to explore the forest around her. She was content.

Sighing, she realized that there was a warm body wrapped around her, yet. Turning around, she looked up in surprise at Fenrir's face. He was just as awake as she was, and he didn't break their embrace. His long fingers were combing through her hair, picking out broken bits of leaves and twigs. He was looking at her almost sweetly.

She lay there, letting the sensation of his fingers, of his touch, fill up her body, and she realized with a start that she was completely content. That there was no place she'd rather be in that moment than in Fenrir's arms. Pressing herself forward, she initiated the first kiss, going after what she really wanted. It took him a moment, perhaps shocked, before he returned the kiss eagerly.

Pressing her onto her back, Fenrir moved himself so he was hovered over her, his hand coming to cup her jaw lovingly. The sparse black hair on his chest tickled against her own bare chest and she could feel her nipples tightening with desire. Bringing her own hands up, Hermione held him to her with one hand, while the fingers of her other toyed with the thick brown hair and the nape of his neck.

Fenrir was the first to deepen their kiss, taking control of the situation like he always did, guiding her through this new encounter. Her heart was fluttering in excitement and she wondered if he could feel how her pulse was racing, excited and aching. He slipped his tongue against hers, toying with her and making her chase after him.

She could feel her hips rocking helplessly against the air, looking for some kind of friction that only Fenrir could provide. Knowing what she wanted, he broke their kiss, his lips trailing kisses down until they wrapped around one taut nipple, sucking gently. His hand moved down her body with surety, until his fingers came to cup her sex gently, letting her rock against him. "Fenrir, please," she begged, too embarrassed to ask for what she wanted.

He wouldn't let her off the hook though. He broke away from her breast, pulling back to loom over her, looking at her with a serious gaze. His blue eyes never left her face, drinking in every microexpression that flickered through her. "Is this what you really want, Hermione? To lie with me?" he questioned, letting one long finger slide up and down her wet folds, teasing against her entrance, but giving her no relief.

Keening, Hermione let her legs fall open in offering. She was throbbing and she knew that she needed Fenrir now more than ever. "Yes, I want you. I want to lie with you," the said quickly, praying for the sweet release that her body had been primed for over the past weeks.

Fenrir grinned at her, swooping down to catch her lips in a kiss once again, before pressing one finger inside her, groaning at the way her body clutched at him. Unable to hold back any longer, he rose up to his knees, only to settle in between her legs, letting his full body weight press against her. It didn't feel crushing or overwhelming, just as if she was finally where she was meant to be. One hand dipped between them, guiding his hard length against her until he was covered in her essence. Then he positioned himself at her entrance, before slowly pressing into her.

Hermione breathed in deeply, overcome with the feeling of him inside her. Fenrir seemed to know that it would take her a moment to adjust, and he stilled once he was fully seated, kissing her deeply until she relaxed fully. Once she was helplessly rocking against him, unable to move much due to his superior weight, he finally gave in and pulled out, only to press back into her, making Hermione gasp with pleasure.

It was unlike anything she'd ever felt before, and she started to move with him instinctually. The press and pull of his hips seemed as natural as breathing, and she found herself wrapping her legs around his arse, trying to pull him closer. The change in angle allowed him to get deeper inside her, embedding himself within her very soul, making Hermione gasp and cry out. She pressed uncoordinated kisses against his jaw and throat as he gained speed, changing from something slow and gentle to something more animalistic and needy, her hands sliding up and down his sides, needing him closer to her.

A familiar coil of heat was building inside her, winding itself tighter and tighter each time he thrust against her. Judging by the erratic pace that he was setting, Hermione could tell that he was close as well. Slamming her eyes shut, she focused on the feeling of their joining, feeling her orgasm was just in reach until finally she snapped, coming around him, Fenrir's name pulled from her lips.

He was not far behind her, thrusting against her a few more times before collapsing against her, his face pressed into her neck, breathing deeply. His hips jerked a few last times before he was breathing out her name, helplessly.

She wasn't sure how long they lay there in the sunlight, basking in the afterglow of their joining, but eventually it was Fenrir who moved off of her. Kneeling beside her prone body, he picked her up in his arms, carrying her to their shared tent. He deposited her onto the lower bunk, before crawling beside her, pressing his body against hers fully, his arm holding her against him.

His nose pressed into her hair, breathing deeply. Hermione could feel the steady thrum of his heart against her back. Fenrir's voice was so small, that she almost didn't think that he spoke aloud at first. Still, the words made her heart skip a beat. "I don't want to let you go. I don't want you to leave me."


	7. Chapter 7

The day after the full moon passed without question or explanation. Instead, Hermione had kept Fenrir confined to their tent, wanting to explore this new aspect of their relationship. They had moved from enemies to friends to lovers and while it was new, it was easy for her to remain wrapped up in Fenrir's arms, exploring each other's bodies.

However, after one day had passed, Fenrir seemed eager to nail down just what they were to one another. He'd stared at her across the small picnic table, eating a ravenous portion of venison jerky seeing as they'd been a bit too busy to eat the day before. "I should move soon," he said, his blue eyes dropping to his hands, not wanting to meet her eyes. "I've been in this spot for too long."

It was odd to see someone like Fenrir so completely vulnerable. She knew that he didn't want her to leave — his whispered insistence was enough for her to recognize that — but she knew that he would let her leave as well. He wouldn't keep her there against her will, knowing that she was still conflicted by the thought of completely leaving wizarding society.

Her eyebrows furrowed together. "Where will you go this month, Fenrir?" she asked, biting her lower lip. "How long will it be until you find someplace more...permanent?"

He looked up at her with a grin, perhaps sensing that she was wavering. "I'll go East. It's not far away from people, but it would allow me to get some supplies," he explained. His eyes trailed over her body. "If I knew I had someone to come home to every night, it might convince me to make things a bit more permanent. It would be good to have a pack again."

She reached across the table, reaching out for his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I don't want to leave either, Fenrir. I'm not ready to go back yet," she explained, knowing that they would need to have more concrete explanations over time. "And it would be nice to have a pack, so long as...I don't want to hurt anyone, Fenrir," she said, determined that if she did stay, she wouldn't purposefully be hurting anyone. Even if she couldn't rejoin wizarding society because they thought she was too dangerous, she could prove to everyone that they assumed incorrectly.

"I can't make any promises that I _won't_ change anyone, Hermione," he said solemnly. "But I can promise that I will try. If you stay with me, and we stay in one place, other lone werewolves will seek us out. We can start with them."

She nodded, fighting a smile. She hoped that over time and more heated discussions, the pair of them could come to common grounds on how werewolves and wizards could cohabitate. Now that she had a better understanding of what being a werewolf was, though, she could acknowledge that she wouldn't accept less than a certain level of respect, one that did not include wolfsbane. "We should really start packing up," she whispered, standing up.

However, packing up to move was the absolute last thing on her mind. Instead, she moved around the table, coming to stand in front of Fenrir. Taking his large hand in her own, she led him over to the bottom bunk, only too eager to fall back amongst his furs and pillows. She wanted to sit astride him and take him inside of her, while his hands encouraged her hips to rock back and forth. Pulling him down with her, she was grateful that his aversion to clothing meant that he hadn't donned a shirt that morning.

Their kiss was passionate and all consuming, so much so that Hermione couldn't focus on anything else other than the feel of his hands and mouth. She was so distracted that she didn't notice the intruder making their way into their camp. Fenrir also heard the noises too late, leaping off of her only once the tent flap was pulled back. He assumed a defensive position, trying to shield her with his massive body.

"Hermione!" Remus snarled, announcing himself to the room. "What the _fuck_ are you doing?" he questioned, paying little attention to the aggression roiling off Fenrir in waves. Trying to push past the other male werewolf, Remus was shocked when he got a good look at Hermione.

She stood from the cot, not liking to be in such a vulnerable position. She stood behind Fenrir, trying to redo the button to her jeans, not wanting to flash her former Professor. "It's none of your concern, Remus," she said sternly.

"Oh, so you're fucking him?" Remus questioned, again trying to push past Fenrir to get to her. "You _lied_ to me. You said you were going to Australia, but instead you slinked off to the woods to rut with this beast. Hermione, I understand we all get lonely sometimes, but surely there is someone else more suitable."

Fenrir snarled, his voice more lupine than human. Grabbing Remus by the shoulder, he turned the smaller man to face him. "Did you hear her? She said it's none of _your_ concern." Normally, Hermione would have been very put out by the territorial way that Fenrir was treating her, but having spent so much time embracing her inner werewolf, she now understood that it was something that he couldn't just turn off.

Remus was far too angry to pay any mind to Fenrir's warnings, instead still looking over his broad shoulders to get a look at Hermione. "Are you even going to try and explain yourself? You promised that you wouldn't seek him out."

"I did no such thing," Hermione insisted, finally moving past Fenrir, despite seeing how much it irritated her lover. She needed to work this out with Remus. It wasn't something that she could have hanging over her mind for the rest of her life. "You insisted that I not seek him out, but I never in a million years thought he would help me more in one transformation than you would have taught me in a lifetime. The wolfsbane is poison, Remus," she tried to explain, pressing a hand to his arm.

Her former flatmate violently pulled away from her. "What has happened to you, Hermione? The wolfsbane _isn't_ poison. It would help you keep your mind. It will help you _cope_ with the curse," Remus argued, vitriol dripping off his tongue.

That had Hermione pulling back. "It's not a curse, Remus. I didn't understand it at first, but I've embraced the werewolf inside me. I've become the werewolf, and honestly, I like it," she said proudly. She was not going to become the beaten-down, shabby, shadow of the person they were before they were bitten, the way that Remus had retreated into himself. She was not the same, no, but she wasn't any worse off. She could realize that now.

Fenrir was only too happy to hear her defense of him and the way he'd chosen to live. Coming up behind her, he wrapped an arm around her waist, grinding his hard length into her backside, apparently undeterred by their company. She blushed, not willing to go _that_ far in front of Remus. Still, she willed herself calm, looking at the intruder expectantly.

"How can you let him put his _filthy_ paws all over you?" Remus questioned sharply, his nostrils flaring. His fists balled up at his sides. Despite wanting to take the refined and civilized approach, his behavior was the most savage that she'd experienced so far. "He's bloody dangerous! Don't you know what he does? How he _attacks_ people? Savages them?"

Unable to hear Remus talk about Fenrir as if he was above reproach any longer, Hermione threw Fenrir's arm off of her stepping forward. "How hypocritical can you be, Remus?" she cried out, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "How can you tell me that he is dangerous and savages people, when it was you that bit me? You were supposed to be docile and...and I trusted you to have control over yourself. _You_ made me this way, and you don't get to tell me how to live my life _now_." She beat her hands against his chest, her body shaking from the effort.

The morning after Remus had bit her, he had been so horrified and apologetic. Hermione had tried to pretend like it wasn't a problem, that it wasn't his fault, but if she was honest with herself, she didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive him. Not when he used the tragedy to form a codependent relationship with her, needing her to lean on him so that he would have _someone_ in his life.

Fenrir wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest while she sobbed. She'd been holding all of it in for so _long_ now, she didn't realize how cathartic it would feel to finally get it all out in the open. She could hear the low rumble of Fenrir's voice telling Remus to get out before he did something they would all regret.

And to her surprise, Remus left her there.

When they were alone again, Fenrir guided her towards the bed, laying her down and holding her to his chest. His fingers worked through her hair, soothing her. "How did it happen?" he asked finally, obviously surprised that it was Remus Lupin who'd made her the way she was all along.

Hermione looked up at him, biting her lower lip. There was no point in hiding the truth from him any longer. "I was looking after him at Grimmauld Place. He was so upset after losing Tonks and Teddy that he wasn't taking care of himself, but he swore that he was taking his potion correctly," Hermione explained, wiping the tears from her face. "I must have gone down to the basement before he'd transformed back because as soon as I walked in the door, he was pinning me down and biting me."

He didn't say anything, just listened to her story, about how her friends had pulled away over time, and how she'd been forced to rely on Remus more and more. He listened to her tease out the idea that maybe Remus had liked having someone so dependent on him, and that he was just afraid of being alone again now that she'd decided to stay with him.

"So you'll stay with me then?" he asked, sounding surprised. "For true?"

She smiled, propping herself up on one elbow. "I already told you I wasn't ready to go back yet," she explained. "I don't think I'll ever be ready," she said, surprised by the lack of loss or sadness she felt at the idea of not seeing her friends again. In the end, she knew that people who shared Remus's views were too prevalent. It would be impossible for them to accept her as a proud werewolf _and_ a witch. She couldn't have _both_ worlds if she wanted to live a humane life.

Fenrir pulled her down for a possessive kiss, before smiling at her. "Well, I am happy to keep you for as long as you'll stay," he told her, truthfully.

* * *

_Twenty-Four Moons Later_

Hermione walked through the growing campsite, eager to find Fenrir. She was so focused on getting to their cottage that she didn't notice the tiny boy who ran into her. Putting out her hands, she pressed them into his shoulders, slowing him down. "Careful, Johnny," she scolded, but a smile on her face let him know that she wasn't _too_ upset.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said with his grin from ear to ear, showing off his half-grown in front tooth. She just nodded, pressing a hand to her rounded belly, before continuing on her way.

Their little village was almost unrecognizable from when she and Fenrir had first selected this location, setting up the charmed tent near a bend in the stream. It had taken Hermione a few months, but she eventually concluded that they could charm a small house to fulfill the same purposes that the tent did. Fenrir had worked hard to construct a tiny cottage with nearly the same footprint as the tent and Hermione worked on the elaborate charms work, but in the end, the result was quite impressive. They'd done away with the bunk beds at that time; instead they shared one bed every night since the confrontation with Remus.

Fenrir had been right that werewolves would come looking for them once rumors got out that there were other werewolves living in the woods. Apparently, there was an innate need to be a part of a pack, perhaps a product of evolution, knowing that there was safety in numbers. After six months, their _pack_ had tripled in size, and nearly two years later there were approximately twenty-five werewolves living with them. A small number of them were children, but she could at least take some comfort to see them after their transformations, finding some relief for the first time in their lives after being guided properly.

Everyone had a duty or a job in their little village, and Hermione often found herself teaching the four children that had joined them basic schooling, hoping that someday they might have the opportunity for formal schooling, but determined to teach them as well as she could in the meantime. Fenrir spent most of his time finding food and protecting the pack from outside threats, but he also did a lot of peacekeeping.

Walking into their shared cottage, she bit her lower lip, seeing that Fenrir had just returned from a bath at the river, and was still half-naked, but working on getting dressed again. It was getting colder and the nights were growing longer. "No need to get dressed, _alpha_ ," she teased, knowing the effect that word had on him. In the beginning, she'd totally refused to call him by his so-called proper title, but now she would give him that respect in public. "I can keep you warm through the night," she pressed a kiss to his bare back, wrapping her arms around his middle.

Fenrir groaned, turning around so that he could face her. His palm caressed her belly, while he caught her in a dominant kiss, leaving her panting by the end of it. "How are my two favorite people today?" he asked, teasingly.

Hermione grinned. Although they'd never had a formal discussion about what their relationship _was_ exactly, she had no doubts about its permanence. It was as if their hearts bled into one another's, after he'd shown her the beauty of her _curse_. They'd also never discussed the possibility of children, but she supposed it was inevitable with how insatiable they were for one another. "We are fine. A bit antsy for the full moon, but we will get through it like usual."

"You are as round and full as the moon now, Hermione," he said with a smirk. "It won't be long now before the pup is born."

Despite herself, she felt herself laughing at him. "That is not _nearly_ as poetic as you think, Fenrir. Not exactly a compliment. But I am excited to finally hold the pup in my arms," she admitted, feeling anxious and excited all at the same time.

"Come, let me hold _you_ in my arms for the time being. We should rest before moonrise," he commanded, pulling her back into their bedroom, before laying down next to her.

With her head on his chest, she could feel Fenrir's heart beat in time with hers, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath. It was strange, she'd been a werewolf for less than a quarter of her life, but she couldn't imagine it any other way. It was second nature for her now that she'd embraced the wolf inside her and the wolf beside her.


End file.
